CT 

275 

B5852 

B5      : 

<^v^/ 


OF 


ANN    L.    BOUTELLE 


sustained  and  soothed 


By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  thy  grave, 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  aud  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams. 

Bbyakt. 


•***^^^^y*^* 


BOSTON: 

BENJAMIN    H.    GREENE 

1836. 


^' 


Entered  according  lo  Act  of  Congress,  ifi  tFie  year  1836,  by 

B.  H.  Greeke, 
in  the  Ckrk's  office  of  the  District  CouTt  of  MasBrichuselts/ 


of  John  Putnam 


The  following  simple  sketch  was  originally  writtea 
for  the  gratification  of  a  few  friends,  by  one  who  had 
the  privilege  of  an  intimate  friendi^hip  with  the  subject 
of  it.  It  is  printed  in  compliance  with  the  request  of 
several  individuals,  who  had  seen  Ann  frequently  during 
her  sickness,  and  judged  from  the  effect  which  her  state 
of  mind  produced  upon  themselves,  that  a  more  extensive 
circulation  of  these  recollections,  than  was  convenient 
for  a  manuscript,  might  be  of  advantage  to  those  of  her 
age. 

Plymouth,  January,  1S36. 


ANN  L.  BO  U  TELLE. 


When  the  gifted  and  the  full  of  promise 
are  called  from  us  in  the  morning  of  their 
existence,  we  feel  that  God  intends  that  we 
shall  derive  that  benefit  from  their  death, 
which  we  had  promised  ourselves  from  their 
life.  The  influence  they  exert  upon  us, 
ceases  not  when  they  cease  from  among  us, 
for  the  love  we  bear  the  dead  is  refining,  and' 
exalting,  and  redeeming  in  its  tendency.  We 
have  resigned  one  whom  we  dearly  loved — 
not  to  death — for,  over  such,  death  has  no 
power — but  to  Him,  whose  existence  and 
goodness  she  constantly  recognized;  and  we 
would  contemplate  the  last  hours  of  her  life, 
that  her  memory  may  inspire  us  with  princi- 
ples of  action,  rather  than  with  feelings  of 
sadne=;'=.  It  is  appointed  unto  all  once  to 
1* 


die;  and  believing,  as  we  do,  that  every  ap- 
pointment of  Providence  has  a  direct  view 
to  the  happiness  of  his  creatures,  we  dwell 
with  a  deep  interest  on  the  character  of  one 
who  realized  this  truth  in  its  fulness.  The 
change  is  to  come  to  us  all,  and  we  are  grate-" 
ful  to  those  who  teach  us  that  it  is  a  happy 
change;  that  the  anticipation,  the  approach 
of  it  may  sanctify,  without  clouding,  each 
event  of  life,  and  so  the  enjoyments  of  the 
present,  be  made  beautifully  to  harmonize 
with  the  prospects  of  the  future. 

Ann  Lincoln  Boutelle  was  the  only 
daughter  of  the  late  Dr.  Boutelle,  a  gentle- 
man, whose  high  moral  worth,  professional 
skill  and  courteous  manners,  have  endeared 
his  memory  to  many  among  us.  She  was 
born  in  Plymouth,  on  the  11th  October, 
1819;  a  few  weeks  after  the  death  of  her 
father. 

Ann's  life  was  unmarked  by  any  striking 
events:  it  was  a  life  of  simple  action,  of  de- 
vout thought,  of  kind  affections.  They  who 
knew  and  loved  her  as  the  light-hearted 
school  girl,  hardly   realized    the  strength  of 


character  which  was  growing  up  under  an 
exterior,  peculiarly  delicate  and  gentle.  But 
her  sickness  developed  it  all;  and  they,  who 
were  her  seniors  in  age,  and  over  whom  the 
severer  discipline  of  life  had  passed,  went  to 
her  roonn,  not  as  we  usually  go  to  the  sick 
chamber,  to  comfort  the  suffering  body  and 
to  strengthen  the  fainting  spirit,  but  to  be 
themselves  refreshed  and  strengthened  by 
the  faith  and  piety  and  patience  which  there 
shone  so  conspicuously.  Her  whole  appear- 
ance was  so  feminine,  even  frail,  her  heart 
was  so  full  of  exquisite  susceptibilities  and 
ready  sympathies,  that  w^e  feared  lest  the 
storm  should  overwhelm  her;  but  it  came,  and 
we  saw  her  bracing  herself  to  meet  it  with 
unwavering  firmness;  we  found  ourselves  her 
pupils,  her  admirers,  and  not  her  teachers 
and  protectors. 

At  an  age  when  we  look  upon  life's  prom- 
ises without  any  distrust;  when  we  first  re- 
alize the  value  of  our  individual,  independent 
existence;  when  the  treasures  of  intellect 
and  taste  are  poured  out  before  us;  the  ten- 
dencies to  an   hereditary   and   fatal   disorder 


became  manifest  in  our  young  friend,  and  it 
was  soon  evident  that  disease  had  gained  a 
firm  hold.  There  was  a  momentary  strug- 
gle. Life  was  pleasant  to  her,  and  she  loved 
it;  she  enjoyed  the  beauties  of  Nature  and 
the  charms  of  social  intercourse;  she  felt  her 
importance  to  her  widowed  mother;  she 
doubted  her  fitness  for  the  change;  and  for 
a  little  time  she  shrank  from  the  prospect 
before  her.  Her  self-distrust  never  took  the 
form  of  exaggerated  self-blame;  it  was  the 
natural  workings  of  a  soul,  incited  by  the 
approach  of  death  to  the  contemplation  of 
its  duties  and  its  destiny.  She  had  studied 
God  in  his  works;  and  while  they  teach  that 
God  is  love,  they  carry  to  the  reflecting 
mind  a  still  deeper  lesson;  teaching,  that  He 
who  has  made  his  outward  creation  so  fault- 
less, will  demand  from  that  inward  creation 
with  which  he  has  enriched  his  children,  a 
corresponding  harmony  and  perfection.  She 
had  studied  God  in  his  word:  and  who  is 
there  that  reads  "  Be  ye  perfect  as  your  Fa- 
ther is  perfect,"  but  will  shrink  with  the  deep 
conviction  that  that  which  is  required    is  not 


attained?  She  almost  doubted  whether,  in 
that  state  of  unwillingness,  she  ought  to 
pray  for  resignation — she  probably  felt  as 
if  the  attainment  of  it  were  not  possible, 
and  as  if  the  promise  made  to  those  who 
''  ask^  believing,''  did  not  apply  to  her.  But 
she  was  encouraged  to  pray — and  she  did 
pray,  earnestly,  sincerely;  and  He  who  "  will 
not  quench  the  smoking  flax,"  imparted  to 
her  the  strength  she  needed.  The  struggle 
was  but  momentary;  the  peace  which  arises 
from  perfect  submission  soon  came,  and  it 
was  more  valuable  from  having  been  pre- 
ceded by  this  conflict;  for  it  proved  that  the 
resignation  she  afterwards  unchangingly  felt, 
the  willingness  to  depart,  which  soon  grew 
into  a  desire,  arose  not  from  weariness  of 
life.  Earth  was  to  her  an  Eden  of  kind 
hearts  and  bright  prospects  ;  but  every  joy- 
ous, lovely  thing  was  seized  as  a  type  of  the 
blissfulness  of  the  future  state.  Life  had  been 
bright  and  happy  ;  but  the  brilliancy  and 
blessedness  of  immortality  was  revealed  to 
her  self-sacrificing  spirit.  Not  a  cloud 
dimmed   the   prospect   before  her:    her  own 


10 

purity  and  affectionateness  imaged  forth  a 
God  of  holiness  and  love,  and  the  interest 
she  had  excited  among  a  large  circle  of 
friends,  was  a  pledge  to  her  of  the  ministries 
of  love  which  the  spirits  above  would  exer- 
cise. 

The  peculiar  circumstances  under  which 
Ann  was  born,  might  have  contributed  to 
stamp  upon  her  character  the  filial  devoted- 
ness  which  was  so  strongly  impressed  there. 
Amid  the  gaiety  of  childhood,  as  amid  the 
privations  and  sufferings  of  sickness,  she 
seemed  to  realize  that  she  had  been  sent  in 
an  hour  of  deep  desolation,  by  Him,  who 
"  will  not  leave  us  comfortless,"  to  cheer  the 
heart  which  had  been  so  severely  tried;  and 
faithfully  was  her  mission  performed.  Dur- 
ing any  illness  of  her  mother,  she  was  the 
ever  watchful,  self-forgetting  nurse;  and 
when  her  own  sickness  came,  her  desire  to 
relieve  her  mother  from  all  solicitude  on  her 
account,  her  watchfulness  lest  her  rest 
should  be  disturbed,  made  her  seem  at  times 
the  attendant  of  the  sick,  rather  than  the 
sufferer  herself.     And  the  deep  delight  she 


11 


exhibited  when  she  found  her  efforts  success^ 
ful  to  reconcile  her  mother  to  the  event  which 
she  felt  to  be  so  near,  proved  that  the  only 
cloud  which  had  rested  upon  her  happiness 
was  withdrawn. 

"  I  have  never  been  blessed  by  the  love 
of  an  earthly  father,"  she  once  said,  "but 
perhaps  for  this  very  reason,  my  Heavenly 
Father  has  seemed  nearer  to  me."  Her 
sense  of  his  nearness,  of  his  continual  pres- 
ence and  action,  was  peculiarlyvivid;  every- 
thing was  referred  to  Him;  the  kindness  of 
her  friends,  the  relief  which  medicines  af- 
forded her,  were  causes  of  gratefulness  to 
Him;  while  in  the  pain  she  endured,  she 
saw  a  new  reason  for  thankfulness.  "  I  feel 
grateful  to  God  for  every  hour  of  suffering, 
for  they  have  brought  me  nearer  to  himself." 
"  Don't  think  of  these  sufferings,"  she  would 
say,  in  answer  to  an  expression  of  sympathy, 
*'  think  only  to  what  they  have  brought  me: 
could  I  have  ever  felt  as  I  feel  now  if  I  had 
not  suffered  so.-^  "  To  her  devout  spirit  there 
was  no  chance,  no  accident;  in  everything 
she  discerned  a  Providence,  a  Father. 


12 

The  infrequency  of  any  allusion  to  her 
bodily  feelings  was  very  remarkable;  she 
seemed  to  be  looking  at  the  release  of  the 
spirit,  not  at  the  wearing  out  of  the  body. 
''  Father,  strengthen  me;  " — "  /  will  trust." 
Such  expressions  were  the  only  evidence 
of  increased  suffering,  and  the  first  moment 
of  relief  was  invariably  consecrated  to  a 
thanksgiving  to  Him  in  whom  she  had  not 
trusted  in  vain. 

The  example  of  the  Saviour,  in  whose 
steps  she  had  determined  to  walk,  was  an 
unfailing  source  of  her  resignation  and  for- 
titude. "  Shall  I  repine  at  this  little  suffer- 
ing, when  he,  the  perfect  One,  endured  so 
much? "  "  I  do  not  know  how  I  could  have 
borne  that  dreadful  pain  to-day,  if  that  beau- 
tiful piece  by  Mrs.  Heraans,  '  The  Lord's 
Agony,'  had  not  been  constantly  in  my  mind. 
When  I  had  no  power  to  make  any  thoughts 
for  myself,  that  would  pass  through  my  mind 
and  strengthen  me." 

She  often  expressed  her  gladness  that  she 
had  committed  to  memory  so  much  devo- 
tional  poetry.      The   beautiful   images  with 


13 

which  she  had  stored  her  mind,  were  called 
up  with  great  readhiess  and  pecuhar  appro- 
priateness; and  as  she  repeated  thoughts 
which  ahuost  seemed  to  have  been  written 
for  the  m.oment,  her  rich  voice  and  clear 
enunciation  seemed  to  lend  them  new  mean- 
ing. Pieces  which  she  had  long  since  learn- 
ed, and  whicli  she  supposed  herself  to  have 
forgotten,  came,  uncalled,  to  her  recollection  J 
as  if  all  which  had  been  beautiful  in  her 
earlier  days  was  to  minister  to  the  enjoyment 
of  her  last  hours. 

After  a  period  of  severe  illness  she  regain-' 
ed  her  strength  for  a  time.  Amidst  the  plea-* 
sure  she  expressed  at  this  partial  recovery, 
there  was  the  same  submission  which  had 
characterized  her  when  she  lay  patiently 
waiting  for  the  summons  to  depart.  *'  I  do 
enjoy  this,"  slie  said,  "this  riding  out  and 
going  below — I  know  it  will  last  but  a  little 
while,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not 
enjoy  it."  It  seemed  as  if  this  little  time  of 
relief  and  strength  was  granted  to  show  that 
her  resignation  did  not  arise  from  debility; 
that  her  submission  was  not  the  submission  of 


14 


a  soul  bowed  down  by  infirmity  and  distres^» 
And  wlien  feebleness  again  returned,  she 
met  it  with  the  same  unvarying  sweetness 
with  which  she  had  before  yielded  to  it. 
The  hours  of  renewed  strength  she  devoted 
10  preparing  herself  for  the  suffering  which 
awaited  her,  to  reading,  and  making  little 
articles,  which  she  thought  might  please  her 
friends. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  she  was  fast 
tending  towards  the  Heaven  she  so  earnestly 
contemplated;  but  while  the  powers  of  her' 
body  gradually  failed,  her  soul  seemed  to 
gain  new  vigor.  The  elements  of  beauty 
and  strength,  which  were  developed  in 
her  character,  were  daily  matured;  and  at 
times  there  was  a  thought  of  the  salutary 
influence  which  such  a  character  would 
exert  as  it  grew  "  from  the  tender  blade  to 
the  full  ear;  "  but  the  prevailing  feeling  was, 
that  it  was  fitting  it  should  be  ripened  to  its 
perfectness'in  the  immediate  presence  of  its 
Father. 

She  had,  in  the  early  part  of  her  sickness, 
given  up  her  own  will  to  the  will  of  her  God, 


15 


and  in  that  her  Heaven  began.'  "  Not  my 
will,  but  thine,''  was  her  unceasing  prayer. 
"When  I  was  in  such  pain  to-dav,"  she  said, 
a  few  days  before  her  death,  "  I  could  not  be 
as  happy  as  I  am  now, — I  did  try, — but  I 
could  not."  "  But  you  were  not  unhappy — 
were  you?  "  said  I.  "  Oil  no,  not  inihappy, 
I  am  sure,  for  I  could  always  say  '  Thy  will 
be  done.' " 

One  Sunday  evening,  about  three  weeks 
before  her  departure,  she  was  exceedingly 
feeble  and  silent — we  sat  in  quietness  around 
her,  thinking  her  sleeping;  suddenly  she  ex- 
claimed, "  What  a  glorious  thought!  that  we 
may  roam  from  one  star  to  another,  constantly 
growing  wiser  and  better,  and  gaining  at  each 
one  new  ideas  of  God's  goodness!  Oh,  how- 
happy  the  soul  must  be,  when  its  prison 
doors  are  unlocked  and  it  comes  forth  into 
Heaven.  ^Vhat  a  moment!  I  c^n  realize 
being  with  God,  for  I  feel  that  he  has  been 
with  me  many,  many  times;  an'd  sometimes 
I  feel  his  presence  more  entirely  than  I  feel 
the  presence  of  any  one  of  you.  And  then 
to  be  always  with  my  dear  Saviour,  who  has 


trodden  the  same  path,  and  drank  of  the 
same  cup.  Mother,  sweet  mother,  you  will 
be  happy — will  you  not?  "  When  answer- 
ed that  it  was  difficult  for  her  who  remained 
to  feel  just  as  she  did,  she  said,  "  I  know 
that — I  know  you  cannot  help  weeping — 
Jesus  wept — but  God  will  strengthen  you; 
and  when  you  are  here  alone  and  weeping  I 
will  come  and  comfort  you.  I  shall  not  be 
dead.  God  may,  I  trust  he  will,  employ  me 
on  messages  of  love,  and  in  a  little  while  we 
shall  all  be  united  in  one  happy  home."  The 
moral  sublitnity  of  this  scene  will  never  be 
forgotten;  in  that  hour  of  exaltation,  when 
the  joy  of  the  future  world  shone  forth  upon 
her  spirit,  and  the  glory  of  the  sun  of  righte- 
ousness fell  upon  her  vision,  the  lesser  light 
which  had  so  cheeringly  beamed  upon  her 
path  was  not  quenched  nor  forgotten.  Like 
her  perfect  model,  her  eye  was  steadfastly 
fixed  upon  her  Heavenly  Parent,  while  her 
heart  beat  with  affection  and  sympathy  for 
her  earthly  parent. 

Her  sympathy  with  others  grew  more  in- 
tense under  circumstances  which  sometimes 


17 


induce  selfishness.  The  acuteness  of  her 
own  sufferings  was  learned  only  by  lier  being 
so  much  moved  by  any  indisposition  in  those 
around  her:  as  you  saw  how  highly  she  ap- 
preciated the  daily  pleasures  of  which  she 
was  deprived,  by  her  earnest  desire  that  her 
young  friends  should  participate  in  them. 
Durins;  all  her  own  trials  her  eve  was  raised 
to  Heaven  in  calm,  cheerful  trust;  it  was 
suffused  wiih  tears  when  she  heard  of  the 
bereavement  of  a  friend  whom  she  valued 
and  loved. 

I  v.as  with  her  about  twilight  on  ^Vednes- 
•day,  Nov.  18th;  she  was  very  feeble  and  in 
great  distress;  knowing  what  charms  nature 
had  for  her,  I  spoke  to  her  of  the  serene  sky 
and  the  calm,  new  moon.  She  turned  ber 
head  feebly  around,  but  in  a  voice  of  great 
cheerfulness  said,  *'  Oh,  how  beautiful!  It  is 
my  father's  kind  eye,  looking  upon  his  suf- 
fering child,  and  in  love  too.  I  wish  I  could 
go  to  rest'  with  that  sun — but  His  will  be 
done — I  shall  soon  sec  brighter  scenes  than 
these."  As  Heaven  had  been  so  near  to  her 
during  her   earthly  pilgrimage,  so  she  believ- 


IS 

ed  that  earth  would  not  be  obscured  to  her 
when  she  had  passed  from  it.  "  Think  of 
me  at  twilight,  my  spirit  will  be  with  you  at 
that  hour."  "  I  can  do  nothing  for  you 
now,  but  sometimes  when  you  are  sad  I  will 
come  and  comfort  you.  Think  of  me  then." 
We  read  that  "  His  angels  are  ministering 
spirits,"  and  why  should  not  our  Father  shed 
his  influence  upon  us,  in  our  hours  of  strug- 
gling and  suffering,  through  the  agency  of  a 
being  so  pure  and  sympathizing.'^ 

"  I  try  not  to  cough,"  she  said,  "  till  dear 
mother  gets  asleep;  then  my  coughing  does 
not  disturb  her,  and  by  the  time  she  w^akes  I 
am  asleep,  and  then  she  thinks  I  have  had  a^ 
nice,  quiet  nap;  this  makes  her  more  easy,, 
and  is  just  as  well,  you  know." 

On  Friday,  Nov.  27th,  she  took  leave  of 
her  young  friends  with  the  same  calmness 
and  cheerfulness  as  if  she  were  going  a  short 
journey  to  some  w^ll-known  place,  giving  to 
each  of  them  some  token  of  her  love  and 
some  appropriate  expression  of  her  interest 
and  advice.  They  could  not  always  repress 
the  rising  emotion,  but  she  was  entirely  calm 


19 

— self-possessed.  "  Religion  is  a  cheerful 
thing,  you  know,"  she  said  to  one  who  was 
much  overcome  wiih  the  thought  of  separa- 
tion. From  this  day  she  did  not  ask  for  them 
again;  she  "  felt  as  if  her  work  with  them 
was  accomplished." 

In  answer  to  an  offer  to  pass  the  next 
night  witli  her,  she  said  *'  1  should  admire  to 
have  you,  if  I  don't  have  better  care."  But 
she  expressed  her  belief  thnt  her  service  on 
earth  was  finished,  and  that  she  should  pass 
lier  Sabbath  in  heaven. 

She  continued  in  a  state  of  great  weak- 
ness for  several  days.  When  something  w^as 
to  be  done  to  her  which  she  doubted  her  abil- 
ity to  bear,  she  said,  "  Stand  by  me  and  put 
your  hand  on  my  head,  that  I  may  know  you 
are  praying  for  me." 

She  appeared,  occasionally,  utterly  uncon- 
scious; I  was  holding  her  head,  "  Poor  lit- 
tle girl,"  said  some  one.  "Not  poor^'' 
said  I,  "  the  happitsloi  us  all."  She  pressed 
my  hand  with  great  fervor.  AVe  had  believ- 
ed her  to  be  entirely  insensible,  and  it  seemer' 
as   if  any   expression   of  trust  in   the   happi- 


20 


ness  she  so  much  vakied,   had  power  to   call 
back  her  fainting  spirit. 

The  Tuesday  before  her  death  her  mother 
asked  her  if  her  brother  should  read  to  her 
some  of  the  promises  of  our  Gospel;  she 
put  her  hand  upon  her  heart  and  answered, 
"  They  are  all /lere."  During  that  day  she 
lay  speechless,  with  her  eyes  closed,  giv^ing 
no  sign  of  consciousness,  except  that  an  oc- 
casional pressure  of  her  mother's  hand  told 
that  her  spirit  was  still  active  and  awake  to 
surrounding  objects,  though  the  organs  by 
which  its  activity  were  usually  manifested 
were  too  feeble  to  permit  its  developement. 
We  watched  around  her  bed,  thinking  that 
she  was  just  passing  into  the  heavens;  when 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon,  she  sud- 
denly aroused,  repeated  a  long  piece  of  po- 
etry, entitled  "  The  Three  Homes,"  and  ap- 
plied the  different  sentiments  to  three  of  her 
friends  with  peculiar  appropriateness.  When 
asked  if  she  had  had  a  happy  day,  she  said, 
"Oh,  most  happy,  most  happy."  In  reply 
to  the  question  of  what  she  had  been  think- 
ing, she  said,  "  Of  friends  (naming  them)  and 


21 


blessing  them  ;  of  pure  waters,  bright  skies^ 
clear  air."  "Did  you  think  of  your  Sa- 
viour? "  "  Leaning  on  his  bosom,"  was  the 
beautiful  reply  ;  and  those  who  had  seen  the 
bright  expression  of  her  countenance  as  she 
lay  calm  and  peaceful,  with  no  shade  of  suf- 
fering or  passion  passing  over  the  serenity 
of  her  face,  could  realize  that  she  had  indeed 
been  leaning  on  her  Saviour's  bosom.  "If 
I  sink  away  so  again,  do  not  speak  to  me; 
leave  me  with  my  Father!  " 

The  next  day  she  appeared  more  strong, 
though  it  was  evident  that  her  sun  had  near- 
ly set.  That  evening  she  sang  a  hymn  in  a 
low,  but  sustained  voice.  She  had  never 
sung  before,  and  when  asked  why  she  did 
then,  she  said,  "  Oh,  the  spirit  moved  me.'* 
It  was  as  if  the  beautiful  harmony  within, 
must  find  utterance  in  outward  harmony;  as 
if  her  bright  spirit  was  bearing  itself  upon  the 
wings  of  its  own  melody  to  the  throne  of  the 
Eternal. 

She  had  expressed  a  wish  to  Wve  until 
Thanksgiving,  that  the  day  might  be  a  pleas- 
anter  one   to   her  mother.     When  told   that 


22 


her  wish  was  answered,  siie  said,  "  Yes,  and 
now  my  only  prayer  is  to  go  down  with  that 
sun."  Her  fortitude  and  patience  did  not 
fail,  though  she  suffered  from  severe  headache 
and  intense  thirst.  "  My  Heavenly  Father 
would  not  have  made  me  so  very  dry  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  best  ;  would  he?  "  she 
said,  as  I  handed  her  the  cup,  which  she 
often  drained  without  seeming  to  alleviate  her 
thirst.  "  I  have  one  more  favor  to  ask  of 
you,"  she  sr.id  in  the  midst  of  her  agony,  "  I 
am  in  great  pain  and  very  restless;  tell  me  if 
I  am  impatient,  for  I  am  fearful  of  becoming 
so."  She  had  often  requested,  during  her 
sickness,  that  any  instance  of  impatience  or 
error  might  not  be  passed  over  in  silence. 

Friday,  at  twilight,  tlie  shutters  of  her 
room  were  opened  that  she  might  once  more 
enjoy  her  favorite  hour, — "  Oh  beautiful  ! 
how  beautiful!  it  is  the  same  kind  eye  look- 
ing upon  the  sufferer."  She  lay  for  a  long 
time  with  her  beautiful  eyes  raised  to  Heaven, 
as  if  -she  were  drinking  in  its  light  and 
love;  and  then  her  lips  moved,  and  her  sweet, 
silvery  voice  was  heard,  ^'  Father,   shed  the 


23 


game  calmness  over  the  heart  of  ihy  chilcl^ 
which  ihoLi  hast  spread  abroad  over  the  face 
of  the  earth."  Then  she  seemed  to  be  con- 
trasting earth  and  heaven  ;  '•'■  eartli's  troubled 
streams,  heaven's  pure  waters  ;  earth's  dar- 
kened sky,  heaven's  pure  light."  The  sound 
of  a  bell  was  heard  ;  "  Is  that  a  funeral  bell.'*" 
and  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  she 
said  with  enipl.asis,  ^^  delightful  sound."  She 
had  before  said  that  "  every  thing  connected 
with  death  had  become  pleasant  to  her,  even 
the  burying  hill." 

Then  the  boys  passed  on  their  way  from 
school,  and  she  expressed  her  sympathy  with 
their  manifest  joyousness.  Her  voice  grew 
feeble  and  indistinct,  but  the  cheerful  smile 
did  not  vanish  ;  that  came  from  a  source  over 
which  death  does  not  hold  sway.  The  same 
thoughtfulness  of  others  which  had  marked 
her  whole  sickness,  was  still  evinced  ;  the 
countenance  still  lighted  up  with  an  atfec- 
lionate  look  of  welcome  to  those  who  ap- 
proached her. 

During  the  pain  and  disquiet  of  the  night 
she  frequently  said,   ''  iMy  Saviour  suffered; 


24 


my  Saviour  suffered."  A  few  hours  before 
light,  she  fell  quietly  asleep;  and  just  after 
the  sun  had  risen  on  Saturday  morning,  De- 
cember 5th,  1835,  the  pure  spirit  which  had 
served  its  God  so  faithfully  at  his  footstool, 
was  permitted  to  ascend  to  his  throne. 

A  few  weeks  before  her  death,  she  com- 
pleted her  16th  year.  She  often  referred  to 
this  birth-day  as  the  happiest  she  had  ever 
known.  About  three  years  previous,  she- 
had  lost  her  uncle,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Goodwin,  of 
Sandwich.  He  had  been  her  judicious  coun-- 
sellor  and  affectionate  friend,  endeavoring  by 
his  wise  and  .kindly  counsels,  to  supply  to 
her  the  place  of  that  parent  whom  she  had 
never  known.  The  event  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  her  mind,  and  doubtless  contrib- 
uted to  strengthen  the  ties  which  bound  her 
to  the  spiritual  world.  She  never  felt  as  if 
the  connexion  between  them  were  severed: 
it  was  her  delight  to  think  that  his  spirit  still 
acted  upon  hers,  not  through  memory  alone, 
but  by  direct  influence. 

The  deep,  earnest  piety,  which  formed  so 
distinguishing  a  feature  in  the  character  of 


Jo 


this  estimable  girl,  became  more  beautiful 
from  its  being  blended  with  the  simplicity 
and  playfulness  of  a  little  child.  Thoughts 
of  the  most  elevated  character,  such  as  be- 
long to  minds  matured  by  discipline  and  ex- 
perience, borrowed  a  new  charm  from  her 
perfect  artlessness.  Her  manner  of  alluding 
to  herself,  was  the  farthest  possible  removed 
from  egotism;  she  never  seemed  to  think 
that  her  firm  trust  in  her  Heavenly  Father, 
her  sense  of  His  continual  presence,  her  ex- 
perience of  the  comfort  which  He  imparts  to 
those  who  put  their  trust  in  Him,  the  multi- 
tude of  thoughts  which  crowd  upon  the  mind 
when  the  action  of  life  is  passing  away  and 
the  soul  is  left  to  itself,  might  not  find  a  cor- 
respondence in  the  experience  of  those 
whom  she  addressed. 

She  had  always  loved  truth,  and  her  per- 
ceptions of  the  true  were  very  correct.  In 
giving  an  account  of  her  earlier  days,  she 
spoke  of  a  book  in  which  she  had  become 
much  interested.  "  I  wanted  very  much 
to  read  that  book,"  she  said,  "  and  was  afraid 
mother  would  not   let  me;  so  when  I  went 

3 


56 

out,  I  hid  it;  but  I  could  not  be  easy  till  I  had 
gone  home  and  told  her."' 

The  requirements  and  the  promises  of 
Christianity,  and  not  its  speculative  dogmas, 
were  the  favorite  theme  of  her  meditation. 
God  was  her  father  and  Christ  her  friend, 
and  her  faith  was  the  implicit  confidence 
which  a  child  places  in  its  parent  and  friend. 

The  same  buoyancy  of  spirit  and  love  of 
seeing  others  happy  which  had  made  her 
enjoy  the  dance  and  the  frolic  and  all  the 
activity  of  life,  gave  happiness  to  its  passive 
hours.  Her  heart  was  ready  to  receive  every 
pleasant  impression,  and  her  expressive  eye 
shone  with  new  lustre,  as  it  rested  upon 
a  beautiful  sky  or  a  lovely  flower  or  an  es- 
teemed friend.  That  setting  sun!  does  it 
not  seem  like  the  smile  of  some  good  spirit.'"' 
"  How  pleasant  this  rainy  day  is!  It  seems 
so  social  and  happy."  This  is  a  kind 
little  fever,"  she  would  say,  as  the  hectic 
returned,  "  it  gives  me  strength  to  talk  with 
my  dear  friends;  when  I  feel  so  weak  as  if 
1  should  never  speak  again,  this  little  friend 
comes  and  helps  me."  Solitude  was  never 
irksome  to  her;  she    would    frequently  urge 


27 

her  mother  to  go  out,  saying,  You  need  not 
be  troubled  about  leaving  me  alone — for  it 
is  a  good  lime  to  think;  and  then  I  do  not 
feel  lonely,  for  my  Heavenly  Father  is  with 
me."  She  observed,  a  little  time  before  her 
death,  when  very  feeble,  "  I  have  had  a  fine 
frolic  tonight.  I  was  alone  here  and  a  party 
of  boys  were  playing  beneath  the  windows. 
I  could  hear  them  distinctly,  and  my  heart 
went  along  with  all  their  fun."  It  seemed 
as  if  she  had  laid  her  mind  open  to  every  ray 
of  brightness  and  beauty,  and  had  the  power 
to  exclude  everything  dark  and  depressing. 
It  is  the  tendency  of  any  deep-felt  emo- 
tion to  call  forth  a  corresponding  one  in  those 
around,  and  thus  her  sick-room  became  the 
centre  of  a  true  and  chastened  happiness. — 
That  fearful  conflict  within,  which  takes 
place  when  we  are  striving  to  impart  a  hope 
which  we  do  not  ourselves  feel,  and  to  clothe 
the  countenance  with  a  serenity  which  does 
not  find  its  home  in  the  heart,  was  not  there. 
It  were  well  if  all  who  are  accustomed  to  look 
upon  death  as  the  king  of  terrors,  could 
witness  a  scene  like  this;  where  the  love  of 


28 

God  was  constantly  recognized  and  his  in- 
dwelling spirit  made  manifest;  where  the 
earthly  and  the  heavenly  life  were  alike 
acknowledged  as  his  good  gifts,  and  the 
transition  from  one  to  the  other  viewed  but 
as  a  change  from  glory  to  glory. 

In  a  little  book  of  hers  we  find  the  follow- 
ing beautiful  tlioughts  which  she  wrote  there, 
"  hoping  some  day  to  be  able  to  put  it  in 
rhyme."  The  sentiment  it  expresses  was  a 
favorite  one  with  her,  and  it  does  not  need 
rhyme  nor  measure  to  make  it  poetry. 

'  Twilight  I  love'  tiiee — for  tliy  still  and  placid  hour 
Seems  fraught  with  thoughts  of  holiness  and  love 
That  fain  would  bear  our  sjiirit  up  to  that  high  world 
Where  centre  all  our  hopes  of  happiness;  and  where 
The  spirits  of  our  dear  departed  friends  have  gone; 
And,  as  I  gaze  upon  thy  parting  light, 
Methinks  they  smile  upon  us  from  their  blissful  home, 
And  seem  to  whisper  hope  and  peace  to  our  fond  hearts. 

On  another  leaf  is  written: 

"  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  nic;  for 
I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find 
rest  unto  your  souls.  Dear  Saviour,  grant  that  it 
may  be  my  chief  aim  to  follow  thy  divine  example. 
May    I    feel    that  every    moment   is  precious,    and    that 


the  short  lime  I  liave  to  spend  here  must  every  mo- 
ment  be  improved.  Oh,  may  1  every  day  learn  more 
of  my  dear  Saviour,  and  try  with  my  whole  heart  to  be 
his  disciple." 

This  simple  prayer  was  one  of  the  last 
things  she  ever  wrote  ;  and  she  probably 
recorded  it,  from  a  feelins;  which  she  once 
expressed,  tliat  she  ought  to  make  the  feelings 
she  had  in  her  hours  of  ease  very  distinct  to 
herself,  that  they  might  recur  to  her  when 
pain  and  weakness  rendered  it  less  easy  to 
regulate  her  thoufrhts. 

She  had  had  a  strong  desire  to  talk  to  her 
young  friends,  those  who  had  been  her  asso- 
ciates in  the  Sabbath  School  *  and  in  the 
daily  intercourse  of  life;  but  she  had  hesitated, 
"  lest  they  should  think  she  thought  herself 
better  than  they  were,  and  she  was  sure  she 
did  not."  She  finally  overcome  her  scru- 
ples and  talked  to  them  frequently  and  freely 
of  her  happiness  and  her  hopes — entering 
heartily  into  all  tlieir  joys,  and  desiring  that 
they  might  into  hers.      She  also  suggested  to 

*Ann  was  a  member  of  the  Sabbath  School  connected 
with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Kendall's  society. 

3* 


30 


those  with  whom  she  was  most  Intimate,  a 
plan  for  occasionally  meeting  for  the  purpo- 
ses of  moral  and  religious  improvement.  A 
few  nights  before  her  death,  she  dictated  to 
a  friend  who  was  with  her,  the  following  note, 
addressed  to  them,  and  to  be  delivered  after 
she  should  have  departed: 

"  When  you  receive  this,  my  dear  young  friends  and 
companions,  with  whom  I  have  enjoyed  so  many 
hours  of  happiness,  I  shall  have  gone  to  that  bright 
world,  where  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  are  centred. 
I  wish,  before  my  spirit  takes  its  flight,  to  tell  ray  young 
companions  it  was  Religion  alone  which  made  that 
world  so  happy  to  me;  and  I  pray  that  my  last  words 
may  sink  deep  into  your  young  hearts.  You  may 
think  the  path  of  duty,  at  first,  perhaps,  too  difficult 
but  you  will  find  that  each  step  you  proceed  will  give 
more  and  more  happiness.  If  you  really  resolve,  from 
the  inmost  recesses  of  your  hearts,  to  give  yourselves 
to  your  Saviour  and  to  your  God — then  oifer  up  a  prayer 
of  heartfelt  supplication  to  the  Father  of  your  spirits, 
and  if  that  prayer  be  truly  sincere,  if  it  come  from 
the  depth  of  a  heart  resolved  to  choose  God  for  your 
Almighty  Father  and  constant  Friend,  that  prayer  will 
be  accepted  by  Him,  to  whom  it  is  offered,  and  you 
will  then  first  begin  to  know  real  happiness.  And 
jf,  at  any  time,  you  feel  tempted  to  stray  from  the  path 
of  duty,  remember  that  a  Heavenly  Father's  eye  is  upon 


31 


you,   and   he   will  give  you   strength  to   overcome  the 
temptation. 

*  Earth  will  forsake — oh  happy  to  have  given 
The  unbroken  heart's  first  fragrance  unto  Heaven.' 

Anne." 

These  are  but  a  (eAV  of  the  many  thoughts 
which  she  expressed,  and  of  those  which 
suggest  themselves  from  the  contemplation 
of  her  life  and  death.  But  they  will  serve 
to  show  the  prevailing  feelings  of  her  mind, 
her  prayerful,  confiding  spirit,  and  her  afFec- 
tionate,  cheerful  disposition. 

We  have  laid  her  fair  form  upon  the  con- 
secrated hill  ;  to  be  shielded  by  the  gentle 
snows  of  winter  and  the  tender  grass  of  sum- 
mer; but  the  spirit  which  made  that  form  so 
dear  to  us,  still  lives  in  the  depths  of  our 
hearts.  Our  duties  to  her  have  not  ceased, 
though  we  can  no  longer  contribute  to  her 
comfort,  nor  gratify  ourselves  and  her  by  the 
interchange  of  kindly  offices.  But  we  have 
still  to  ask  ourselves  what  she  can  do  for  us, 
and  to  listen  to  every  thing  in  her  character 
which  speaks  to  us  of  life's  duties,  of  immor- 
tal hopes. 


32 

Ann  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  delicate,  gen- 
tle girl,  with  a  heart  full  of  ready  sympathy 
and  exquisite  sensibility.  What  was  it, 
then,  which  enabled  her  to  endure  severe 
suffering  with  perfect  fortitude,  and  to  retain 
her  self-possession  and  calmness,  while  those 
she  loved  were  sorrowing  that  they  should 
so  soon  see  her  face  no  more  ?  It  was  not 
that  those  delicate  sensibilities  and  sympa- 
thies were  repressed  ;  they  were  ready  to 
flow  out  upon  every  human  being,  every  cre- 
ated'thing;  she  cultivated,  encouraged  those 
feelings;  but  she  looked  for  the  guidance  of 
them  to  the  source  whence  they  had  emanat- 
ed. Alive  as  she  was  to  everything  around 
her,  she  was  yet  more  alive  to  everything 
above  her  ;  and  while  her  interest  in  her 
friends  never  grew  dim,  it  was  ever  increas- 
ing with  the  hopes  and  promises  of  her 
Father  through  her  Saviour. 

The  motto  of  her  path  was  ''  Onward  and 
upward;"  and  whether  it  led  through  scenes 
of  activity  and  gaiety,  or  of  privation  and 
sickness — she  pursued  it  with  a  light  heart 
and  a  firm  step.     Let  this  motto  be  ours  also, 


33 


and  whether  clouds  overshadow  the  path  of 
our  pilgrimage  or  the  full  sunlight  fall  upon 
it,  we  will  never  forget  the  radiance  of  that 
gentle  star  which  has  beamed  so  mildly  upon 
this  portion  of  it  :  as  its  kind  light  shines 
into  our  souls,  it  shall  guide  them  to  the 
Father  and  Friend,  whose  perfections  it 
reflected. 

Farewell,  gentle  and  beloved  friend!  Thine 
image  is  associated  with  all  that  is  bright  in 
life  and  beautiful  in  death.  And  in  those 
hours  of  suffering  with  which  God  shall  see 
fit  to  purify  us,  the  remembrance  of  thy  faith 
and  fortitude,  of  thy  piety  and  purity,  of 
thy  unfailing  cheerfulness,  and  thy  affection- 
ate sympathy,  "  will  come  and  comfort  "  us. 

I  am  indebted  to  a  friend  for  the  following  lines: — 

We  knew  her  when  life's  early  morn 

Scarce  tinged  her  cheek  with  its  flame; 
When  she  seemed  a  fail y  spirit  seni. 
To  turn  our  thoughts  that  on  earth  were  bent, 
To  the  bright  world  whence  she  came. 

She  chased  in  joy  the  butterfly, 

With  his  coal  of  many  dyes; 
Not  a  creature  lived  in  God's  fair  world, 
Not  a  flower  its  tiny  leaves  unfurled. 

But  wakened  her  sympailiies. 


84 

And  time  went  by  on  butterfly  wings. 
And  broDght  to  her  form  new  grace;  — 

But  sickness  came,  and  set  his  seal; 

Art  vainly  tried  his  power  to  heal; 
Earth  was  not  her  dwelling-place. 

We  stood  by  her  couch,  but  not  one  tear 

Swelled  up,  her  eye  to  dim; 
The  light  of  Religion  was  in  that  eye, 
It  showed  her  a  God  of  love  on  high. 

And  she  longed  to  go  to  him. 

The  voice  that  whispered  to  us  there 
Was  like  that  which  one  may  hear 
Throughout  the  wood  in  the  gladsoHie  spring. 
When  the  flower  spirits  all  their  music  bring, 
To  charm  the  listening  ear. 

That  was  to  us  a  hallowed  spot; 

We  went  at  morn  and  even ; 
And  left  the  haunts  of  the  yonng  and  gay» 
There  lingered  still,  still  loved  to  stay; 

There  was  the  gate  of  heaven. 

And  when  death's  shades  stole  o'er  her  face. 

We  mourned  not;  for  we  knew 
'Twas  death  alone  that  kept  from  her  sight. 
That  living  sun,  whose  glorious  light 
Gave  these 'shades  a  darker  hue. 

This  light  her  spirit's  eye  hath  met. 

She  is  praising  her  God  above; 
But  those  she  loved  to  her  soul  are  dear. 
She  looks  on  us  now,  our  prayer  will  hear^ 
And  bless  this  labor  of  love. 


35 


Hymti  referred  to  on  page  21  of  this  Memoir :- 

Why  weep  for  those,  frail  chilfl  of  wo, 
Who  've  fled  and  left  thee  mourning  here  1 

Triumphant  o'er  their  latest  foe, 
They  glory  in  a  brighter  sphere. 

Weep  not  for  them; — beside  thee  now 
Perhaps  they  watch  wiih  guardian  care, 

And  witness  tears  that  idly  flow 

O'er  those  who  bliss  of  angels  share. 

Or  round  their  Father's  throne,  above, 
With  raptured  voice  his  praise  they  singj 

Or  on  his  messages  of  love 

They  journey  with  unwearied  wing. 

Space  cannot  check,  thought  cannot  bound 
The  high  exulting  souls,  whom  he, 

Who  formed  these  million  worlds  around, 
Takes  to  his  own  eternity. 

Weep,  v/eep  no  more;  their  voices  raise 
The  song  of  triumph  high  to  God; 

And,  wouldet  thou  join  their  song  of  praise> 
Walk  humbly  in  the  path  they  trod. 


CT 

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